


Of Flowers and Cake

by LastHope



Series: Superheroes of Olympus [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Family, Gen, Superheroes of Olympus, cooking mishaps, hazel and nico can't be trusted with domestic life at all, plant death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastHope/pseuds/LastHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nico is morally opposed to cake from a box, Hazel doesn’t understand the problem, and they vandalize the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Flowers and Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Just a couple of quick notes before we get going!  
> First, this (technically) takes place sometime between secret #4 and secret #5 in Secrets, which comes before this. Secrets doesn't have to be read to understand this though!  
> Second, a character mentioned in this part, Melanie, is Melinoe, the Goddess of Ghosts. In Greek Mythology, she is said to be the daughter of Hades and Persephone.

Hazel found out why exactly Nico was banned from touching any of the flowers in their step-mother’s shops.  Nico did not exactly have a green thumb.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Hazel had decided to call it a black thumb.

Because, quite honestly, Nico killed every plant he touched.  Literally.  Hazel actually would not have thought it possible had she not witnessed it herself.

Both her and Nico had been on-duty at Penelope’s shop that morning.  Actually, they hadn’t technically been on-duty yet, because the shop hadn’t even opened.  Hazel had been wandering around, watering the plants, Penelope was in the back doing _something_ (probably making more flowers grow), and Nico was doing his absolute best to avoid all of the plants in the store and stay out of the way.

What they had been talking about didn’t really matter now.  What _did_ matter was that Hazel had been a little _too_ enthusiastic with her hand gestures, and had accidentally knocked Nico over.  Into the azalea beds.

At the time, everything had seemed to move in slow motion, but it had actually happened almost instantaneously.  Hazel watched as her brother barely touched some of the plants, but the entire bed just… _died_.  The leaves furled in on themselves and took the leap straight from healthy to brown.  In the moment, it had been quite tragic, but Hazel was sure that they would look back on the situation and laugh someday.

The azaleas hadn’t been the only thing that Nico had accidentally caused the untimely demise of, but they were the most noteworthy.  Other honorable mentions were the begonias, the gardenias, and the petunias.  And the geraniums, but Hazel was pretty sure that Nico killed those on purpose.  (Nico was allergic to geraniums, so Hazel didn’t really blame him.)

Long story short, Penelope had come out, seen the destruction caused by her two step-children, and promptly kicked them out of the shop. They had been sent home with strict orders to stay there.  Nico and Hazel (though Hazel could tell that it was mostly aimed at Nico) had also been told that their father would be having words with them about this incident.

This had all happened this morning.  If Hazel felt technical and specific about it, the entire debacle had occurred one hour and fifty seven minutes ago.  But Hazel wasn’t, because she had bigger things to worry about than how long ago things had happened.

“For the last time Hazel, _no_ ,” Nico refused, but Hazel was fairly certain that it was an empty refusal, considering that he _had_ willingly followed her into the kitchen of his own volition.  Hazel figured he was just griping to gripe.

“And yet, you still came with me to the kitchen,” Hazel pointed out needlessly.  Her back was to Nico as she rooted through one of the many cupboards located in the kitchen.  She _knew_ she had seen it the other day, it couldn’t have been used already, so _where_ was- oh, there it was.

Belatedly Hazel realized, as she turned back to face Nico, he had been talking, and she watched as Nico (quite comically) stopped mid-word to scowl at what Hazel had retrieved from the depths of the cupboard.

“No,” He shook his head, and Hazel frowned, pondering what exactly could be her brother’s problem _this_ time.  “There is _no_ way, in _any_ variation of Hell, that we are going to make cake from a _box_.”

Hazel stared at the box of Funfetti cake mix that she had unearthed.  Then she looked to her brother, then back to the box.  _She_ didn’t see a problem with it.  Hazel took a moment to ponder this.

“But Penelope likes vanilla?” Hazel was not able to overcome her confusion as she tried to figure out what Nico’s problem was.  (To be fair, Nico had several of them, but Hazel was just focusing on the problem at hand for the moment.)

“It’s from a _box_!” Nico angrily threw his hands up in the air and gave a frustrated sigh.  “That’s not _real_ cake!”

“So what, are you suggesting that we bake a cake from _scratch_?” Hazel was beginning to regret having made and pushed this suggestion.  “Do you _realize_ how long that is going to take?  And, better yet, have you ever _made_ a cake from scratch before?”

Nico faltered for a moment, but it did not stop him.  “No,” he responded, “but how hard can it be?”

Famous last words if Hazel ever heard them.  Still, she did not argue as she started pulling out mixing bowls and other necessary utensils while Nico wandered off to grab his tablet to look up a recipe.  They were in the middle of pulling ingredients out, arguing over whether or not they could get away with leaving something out, and the merits of pre-made icing versus making their own when Melanie appeared.

Melanie was Hazel and Nico’s step-sister.  She was Penelope and their Dad’s only child that they had had together, and she was five or ten years older than Hazel and Nico.  Hazel thought that Melanie did not care for her or Nico very much, but she did seem to favor Nico just a tad.

“Well,” Melanie commented dryly from the doorway to the kitchen, “I _was_ going to ask if Mom or Dad was home, but it is _quite_ obvious that they’re not.  Otherwise there is no way they would let the two bastards have control of the kitchen.”

Hazel scowled.  Melanie _always_ referred to her and Nico as “the bastards” when Penelope or Dad weren’t around.  She thought that she was better than Nico and her just because she wasn’t born out of an affair.  Hazel thought she was a dick, and always resisted the urge to tell Melanie that at least she wasn’t born out of wedlock.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Nico answered sarcastically from where he was standing on the countertop next to Hazel.  He was holding the powdered sugar in a way that made Hazel slightly worried that her brother was going to hurl it at their step-sister.  If he did that, how would they make the icing?  “Was there anything _else_ you needed, or did you just simply wish to flaunt your blood status in front of us, Melanie?”  Melanie shrugged.

“Nah, that was it.” Nico handed the sugar off to Hazel as he clambered off of the countertop.  “By the way, congratulations on killing off half of Mom’s shop.”  Hazel watched as Nico’s face flushed red, and his hands tightened to fists.  She was immensely grateful that Nico had already handed the sugar off to her.  He might have accidentally broken open the bag with how tightly his fists were clenched.

Melanie left, and Hazel and Nico turned to arguing over dying the cake and frosting, and what colors.  Nico stubbornly refused, saying it was unnatural, and what was the point?  He didn’t know what colors to make it anyways.  Hazel suggested that they dye the cake green and the frosting red.  (“ _Like the azaleas you killed!”_ ) Nico shot that down with a sour glare, saying that red and green were Christmas colors, and it was most decidedly _not_ Christmas.  (“ _It’s the middle of August, Hazel!_ ”)

Eventually they agreed to not dye the cake, but dye the frosting, making it green and red.  It wasn’t a perfect compromise, but they managed.  Hazel had fought for something to be dyed, seeing as she had already acquiesced on the whole cake mix versus scratch side of things.

They were in the middle of making the icing when they heard the footsteps clicking down the hall.  The footsteps were very familiar and recognizable, and Nico and Hazel looked at each other, paling to a remarkable shade considering their original skin colors.  Hazel and Nico raced to the kitchen door, thankfully the only entrance into the kitchen, caught a glimpse of the person making their way down the hall, and _may_ have accidentally slammed the kitchen door shut.  The kitchen door had no lock, which was not good thing in this case, so Hazel and Nico leaned their collective weight against the door, and hoped that it would just be bypassed.

Their hope turned to be for naught, however, and it was probably not assisted with how they had slammed the kitchen door.  (Hazel passed an idle thought, hoping that that hadn’t caused the cake to flatten.)  The footsteps sped up, walking more quickly towards the kitchen, coming to a stop in front of the door.

Hazel and Nico looked at each other, crossed their fingers, and hoped that the footsteps would start up again.  A decision would be made to leave them alone.  Unfortunately, the firm raps on the kitchen door shattered that hope into pieces.

“Hazel, Nico?  Is everything alright?”  To be fair, their Dad _did_ have a right to sound concerned, seeing as they _had_ slammed the door, and especially after Nico practically squeaked,

“Nothing!” In response, when it did not fit the context of what their father had just asked.

“Nico?”  Hazel could actually _hear_ the frown in their father’s voice.  “I’m coming in.”  Hazel felt, rather than saw, the door knob start turning at her side.

“We’re fine Dad!” Hazel called, shooting a glare at Nico, who gave a sheepish look in return.  “Don’t come in!”

“Hazel?” He sounded confused, and the door knob stopped moving.  It seemed like he was taking a moment to think, and Hazel hoped for the third time that their dad would leave them be.  Third time was the charm, right?  “Regardless, Penelope wanted me to talk to you two about this morning’s… _incident_.  I’m coming in.”

Their dad started to open the door, and Hazel and Nico leaned back against it, forcing it closed once more.  He tried a second time, and for a second time Hazel and Nico forced the door closed.  A thought belatedly crossed Hazel’s mind of what the repercussions might be for keeping their father out of the kitchen against his wishes, but it was a bit late for that.  On the other side of the door Hazel could hear him take a deep breath, and let it out in what would have one assume was an attempt to keep himself calm.

“Children.” Hazel and Nico winced; it wasn’t often they got to hear the flat, eerie tone that was their father’s ‘calm’ voice, but it was a tone that they knew very well as one to be associated with him being pissed off.  Normally it was a tone of voice they relatively enjoyed hearing, as it was not usually aimed at _them_.  “I am going to count to three, and if you are not on your way to the study, so help me you _will_ regret it.”  Hazel and Nico looked at each other, fear and worry visible in the other’s eyes.

“One.”

They bolted for the study.

Hazel and Nico normally didn’t get in trouble, but when they did, their punishment was normally being put to work in one of Penelope’s flower shops under the supervision of either Penelope or their grandmother.  (Both Hazel and Nico agreed just being in their grandmother’s presence was punishment enough, considering that she always commented on how they were too skinny and kept trying to force them to eat more cereal.)  Those times, their punishment would be doled out at the dining room table, casually over supper.  Their father liked to think of the punishments more as volunteering, despite that Hazel and Nico had no choice in the matter.  It was very rare that they were called into the study for things.  Hazel only remembered one time that either of them had been called into the study for something, and that was Nico after he had disappeared for three days straight.  She never found out what happened to him for that stunt, and Nico never volunteered the information.  They didn’t really talk about it.

There were two chairs in front of their father’s desk in the study.  Hazel and Nico remained standing in front of the desk, opting not to sit considering what seemed to be the severity of the situation, and Hazel stared at her feet.  They were bare, and she was pretty sure that that was flour covering them.  Or powdered sugar.  Nico had powdered sugar in his hair; Hazel had deliberately thrown it at him after some remark he had made.  The kitchen was a mess.  _They_ were a mess.

Hazel was pretty sure Dad hadn’t gotten a good look at them yet.  If he had, he probably would have made some sort of comment about their appearances.  Sneaking a glance to Nico, Hazel could confirm that her brother indeed still had green frosting smeared across his neck and the collar of his shirt.  She was fairly certain that she looked just as bad as Nico did, and who knew why their appearances hadn’t been commented on yet.

Their dad seated himself in the chair behind the desk, giving them the order, “Sit.”  They sat, and Hazel at least made sure she wasn’t touching the back of the chair.  Or very much of the chair itself.  She was perched right on the edge of the seat.  Hazel was being polite and trying not to get anything on the chair, because she was not exactly certain how much of her was covered in the cake they had been trying to bake.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?” Honestly, Hazel wasn’t sure what that had been all about.  Why had they locked their dad out of the kitchen again?  Very clearly, it was a poorly thought out plan.  “Or am I just to presume that it was a childish gesture to keep yourselves out of trouble?” Which very clearly did not work.  But no, wait that wasn’t why they did it.

“We didn’t want you to tell Penelope,” Nico offered from his spot hesitantly, a bit sullenly.

“Tell Penelope _what_?” He finally looked up at them, and Hazel would swear that his eyes got twice as big.  “And _what_ are you two covered in?”

“Well, you see,” Hazel started, and at that moment a beeping sounded from the hallway.

“Is that the fire alarm?” Their dad asked just as Nico muttered, “That can’t be the timer.”  He turned suspicious eyes to his two children.

“It’s not,” Hazel answered looking at Nico.  “I set it for forty-five minutes, just like you told me to.  There should be another fifteen minutes left!”

“And what did you set the oven temperature to?”

“Four hundred and fifty degrees, just like you told me to!” Hazel was offended, because she did just as Nico told her.

“I told you three hundred and fifty!”

“You said four fifty!” Hazel shot back, turned toward her brother.  Their father and the fire alarm were forgotten in the midst of their arguing.

“Maybe if you learned to listen, you would have heard me say _three fifty_.”

“Well maybe if _you_ learned to _enunciate_ I would have heard three fifty and not four fifty!”

They were standing now, yelling at each other quite spectacularly.

“And what are we arguing about _now_?” Their father cut in, and as one the two turned to him, pointed at the other and shouted in unison,

“It’s _her_ fault!”

“It’s _his_ fault!”

He sighed, and Hazel was certain that _he_ was going to put an end to their arguing, but they were interrupted once more.  Before he could say anything, the sprinkler system set up throughout the house for precisely this reason- that is, the fire alarm going off, not Hazel and Nico arguing -went off.  Hazel and Nico’s arguing abruptly ended, if not for anything else but the sudden appearance of the water.  Their father gave a mournful look to the study, and all the uncovered papers that had been on his desk.  Hazel looked to Nico who blinked once, twice, and then cursed.

“Shit, my books-” Hazel had to applaud Nico, because she would not have had the guts to curse in front of their father.  Nico spun around, probably intent on rescuing what books he could from the downpour, but before he could take a step, their dad reached a hand out and snagged him by the collar.  His other hand went to rest on Hazel’s shoulder, and then they were marching.

“Not so fast Nico,” He said as they were marched out of the study and down the hall.  Hazel recognized almost instantly the direction that they were headed in.  “I think you- _both_ of you -owe me an explanation.”  At least they weren’t being dragged around by their ears.  Hazel could recall days before Alaska when her mother was mad at her; she would drag Hazel around by her ear.

They stopped at the closed door to the kitchen, and Hazel watched as black smoke leeched out from underneath the door.  She remembered being taught fire safety in school and how opening a closed door where there as fire could cause a backdraft, which led to an explosion because of the sudden influx of air.  Hazel had a brief moment of panic, because that was what they were going to walk into, right?, before she remembered that she and Nico had had windows open in the kitchen, so all they would be walking into would be a hell of a lot of smoke.  Instead, she entertained the idea of why the hell were they walking right to the source of the fire when they should be exiting the house.

With a suffering sigh their dad opened the door to the kitchen, causing a great wall of billowing black smoke to vacate the kitchen.  Coughing, Hazel and Nico waved the smoke from their eyes while their father strode in, unblinking.  He took two steps in, and stopped.

“Well, I suppose _this_ is what Melanie meant when she texted me earlier saying that you two were vandalizing the kitchen.” The kitchen was quite the state, Hazel had to admit, and the smoke did nothing to add to the ambience of the mess that had been there prior.  If anything it emphasized the vandalism aspect of the kitchen.

The cake was probably a lump of charcoal by now.

“It probably wasn’t this bad when Melanie saw it,” Hazel offered, trying to be helpful.  Which she wasn’t, judging by the sigh their father gave.

“It wasn’t,” Nico added. “We hadn’t started yet when she came through.  She wanted to talk to you- did she?”  Nico, as smooth as he tried to be with the change of topic, failed miserably.  Hazel gave him a six for trying.

“She did,” He acknowledged Nico’s attempt, and then proceeded to ignore it. “She did _not_ , however, tell me what you two were doing.”  He strode over to the oven, which was the primary source for the smoke, and opened it, revealing a dark plume of smoke.  This time he at least gave a cough, and picked up the oven mitts that were resting on the counter next to the oven.  He pulled out the pan revealing that yes, indeed, the cake was burnt to a lump of charcoal.  He raised an eyebrow.

“It was _supposed_ to be a cake.” Hazel explained.  “For Penelope.”  She pushed her hair out of her face.  Sirens could be heard down the street.

“A cake.” Hazel could practically hear the deadpan in their father’s voice.  “For Penelope.”

“To, uh, apologize?” Nico shuffled, toes squeaking on the wet linoleum, voice growing smaller with each word. “You know, for, uh, killing half her shop?”  The sirens were louder, and Hazel was ninety-nine percent certain that they were headed for their house.

Their father sighed angrily, and Hazel could see him strain not to slam the cake pan down on the counter.  He left the kitchen, and Hazel trailed after him, Nico not far behind.  They followed him outside, where the fire truck was sitting outside on the curb.  Hazel could see the neighbors standing on their lawns and porches, and there were a couple of people stopped on the sidewalk across the street.

From there it was a long, _embarrassing_ , conversation with the Fire Marshall as everything was explained.  No, there was no fire.  A lot of smoke, but no fire.  ( _“A small cooking mishap, unfortunately.  Everything’s fine except for the cake.”_ )  The Fire Marshall and their dad shared a laugh, and Hazel blushed while Nico shuffled uncomfortably from his spot in the doorway.  He was the only one that did not come fully out onto the porch.  Hazel didn’t really blame him.

After an hour, the Fire Marshall finally left, and their father turned his attention back onto them.  Hazel could feel his stare rest on her (she was looking anywhere but him, thanks to her embarrassment), and there was a beats pause before he actually spoke.

“Well, let’s go in and get changed then,” He said at last, causing Hazel to start and look at him incredulously.  He eyed the both of them, not surprised to see them surprised.  “We have a lot of things in the house to dry off before Penelope gets home, and we might as well dry off before we get started.”

Nico didn’t need to be told twice; he let their dad finish speaking, and once he was certain that he was not going to say anything else, Nico had disappeared into the depths of the house.  Traitor.  He was probably more concerned with his books and gaming systems than the fact that they had very nearly almost accidentally set the house on fire.

Hazel grumbled, and picked her way back through the wet house to her bedroom.  Thankfully, Hazel had had the foresight to drop all of her sketchbooks into her desk drawer that morning before heading off to the flower shop.  Hazel had learned earlier in the summer that if she did not do that and just left them on the desktop, it was free game for anyone in the house to look through.  She changed, and took an extra moment to wash her face off and drag a brush through her hair before she wandered off to start drying off things in other rooms around the house.  Unlike Nico, she wasn’t too worried about the stuff in her room.  She didn’t have too many things in her room that weren’t waterproof, and the main things she was worried about were dry, so it was alright.  The only other things she had were her bedding and stuffed animals, and they would dry on their own.  And if not, she could always throw them in the dryer later.

The rest of the day was spent drying off the house, and somehow they managed to get everything dry before Penelope got home.  That night, thoroughly embarrassed, Hazel and Nico spent the majority of dinner staring at their plates.  There were no attempts at conversation until the very end of dinner, when Penelope interrupted the silence, causing Hazel and Nico both to look up from their plates.

“So did you have a nice talk about the incident from this morning?” Penelope’s tone was casual, aimed at their father, and Hazel could feel the color drain from her face.  She had very nearly managed to forget about it, and Dad hadn’t spoken to them at all about it.

“Yes dear,” He said, even though it was a bold faced lie; they didn’t talk about it at all because of the whole cake fiasco.  “They both promised it would never happen again, and agreed to spend a week helping your mother tend her gardens in the mornings.”  Hazel and Nico shared a look, and Hazel did her best not to groan.  Penelope shot a worried look over towards Nico.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Penelope asked. “Tending mother’s garden, especially after what just happened?”  Dad waved his fork, and Hazel watched as Nico scrutinized his own as if debating the merits of killing himself with it.

“I’m sure he would be very useful taking care of the weeds in her garden,” He said, and Hazel kicked Nico underneath the table before he could follow through with his plan of suicide by fork.  Nico scowled at her, and she smiled sweetly in response.  She was _not_ dealing with their step-grandmother alone.

“But, speaking of the incident from this morning,” Their father added, “The kids have something for you.”

“Oh really?” Penelope raised a graceful eyebrow, and he nodded.

“Why don’t you two go get it,” He looked from them to the kitchen, and Hazel and Nico slowly got up, uncertain of what their father was talking about.  Nonetheless, they slipped quietly into the kitchen, and looked discreetly for what they were supposed to be getting.

Sitting on the counter was a square, green frosted, cake, with purple lettering.  It was quite obviously store bought, but there was no box in sight, and it was resting on a plate as if it had been made at home instead.  Their father’s sentiment was pretty clear.

“-made it themselves,” He was saying as they came back in, and Hazel and Nico both managed smiles as they set it on the table between their father and Penelope.  Penelope did look surprised, and also pleased, like she was happy with the effort that her step-children went through to apologize.  Hazel hoped she didn’t expect this every time.

“‘ _We’re sorry for killing your flowers,’_ ” Penelope read the scrawling script on top of the cake, before pausing, and continuing on in a bewildered tone of voice, “‘ _And vandalizing your kitchen_ ’?”  Thankfully, the dirty look she shot was aimed at their dad, not them, and he scowled.

“Vandalized the kitchen?” She repeated, eyes narrowed.

“I knew I shouldn’t have had Melanie place the order,” Their dad said instead, and Hazel agreed with him, though she didn’t voice it aloud.

“What do you mean, vandalized the kitchen?” Penelope repeated herself, anger starting to color the tone.

“It was Hazel’s fault!” Nico yelped, and bolted from the kitchen, even though their parent’s ire was directed at each other, and not at him.

“Dear, really, it’s not as bad as you think,” He tried to placate Penelope, and Hazel took a step back, towards the hall.

“It was Nico’s fault!” She tossed the blame back, and bolted as well.

Hazel hopped the steps two at a time, hesitated at her bedroom door, before going down two more and inviting herself into Nico’s room.  He looked very affronted at her intrusion as Hazel tossed herself down on his bedspread.

“Excuse you,” He said imperiously, “You have your _own_ room, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.” Hazel answered, not moving.  Something thumped downstairs, and a faint sound of yelling started echoing up the stairwell.

“Do you think we’re going to get any of that cake?” Nico plopped down on the bed, handheld device in hand.  Hazel turned her head to watch as Nico pressed a button and caused a lot of black ant-like creatures in his game to be engulfed in flames.

“Probably not,” Hazel answered.

“Think they’re going to have sex on the dining room table?”

“I think I’m going to need bleach to get that image out of my head, thanks a lot Nico.” Hazel got a snort in response and was ignored in favor of Nico turning the volume of his game up to listen to his game’s cut scene.

“Hey Nico,” Hazel finally said after the game cut scene ended and Nico turned the volume back down.

“Hey what,” He replied distractedly.

“How about we agree to never make cake again.”  Nico hesitated a moment, and then nodded.

“ _Ever_.” He agreed, and submerged himself back in his game.

* * *

 


End file.
